My heart sank as I thought back to the many similar calls of discarded dogs and cats in that same S-curve. Most were just "dumped" like garbage to starve or be eaten by predators or run over by cars. Who knows why? Heartworms, maybe? Too many litters, perhaps? Fleas in the house? There is NO acceptable answer. I can feel their confusion as they watched their humans drive away. I imagine them chasing the cars, but to no avail. Many had been puppies used to bait fighting dogs, their little necks torn and their bodies tattered. Some were pit bulls with bullet wounds to their heads. Apparently ammo is cheaper than feeding a dog that won't fight. I drained my coffee cup, grabbed boots and gloves, and double-checked the truck. I had everything needed to start your transition from injured and abandoned to healthy and homed.

I met Sandy there in that all-too-familiar place-an isolated stretch of blacktop running along pasture land and long-deserted remains of a pig farm. This farm now yields only pain and heartbreak. Desolation is palpable. Here, dozens before you were abandoned only to be coaxed and captured or to draw their last ragged breaths alone if we arrived too late. I was determined that you would be a success story.

But then I saw you. "Oh, Sweetie, what have they done to you?" The gaping wound completely encircled your neck. My hopes for your survival sank as I measured- 1 ½-2 inches wide and 1-1 ½ inches deep-all the way around. The maggots dining on the putrefaction had prolonged your survival but had not saved you. "How could anyone be so cruel? How long were you tied to do that kind of damage? How were you able to eat? Little One, is that why you're just skin and bones? You're just a baby! You couldn't weigh more than 20 pounds! Are you even 8 months old? I am so sorry. (I'm ashamed to be a human in the presence of such inhumanity!) You poor . . . poor . . . little thing . . .!"

We spoke soothingly, inviting you to come to us and enjoy, what I was now sure, would be your last meal. "I know you're hungry, Sweetie, come on now." With little hesitation you weakly made your way through the water and onto the road and inhaled the rich canned food. I didn't have the heart to urge you to slow down. And there's no way we could cause you more pain with a collar or leash. But our dilemma was solved when you, almost eagerly, entered the waiting crate for a second course of kibble.

"Little Girl, you shouldn't be this easy to lift. You should be heavier . . . and struggling to escape. Do you understand that we want to help? Do you know we want to end your suffering? Or, are you just too far gone to care?" Phone calls to my rescue angels have offered no options only much needed support, reassurance and love. There's nothing else we can do.

With your tummy now full, you nestled into the bedding.

"It's just a short ride, Baby. Then you'll go to sleep and wake up across the Rainbow Bridge. Have you heard about it? It's a beautiful place where there are no tight ropes or chains or fighting dogs. (How could this happen?) It's a wonderful place with plenty of food and sparkling water to drink-not this muddy, smelly floodwater you've been treading. And you can romp and play with all of the other animals there waiting. Have you ever romped and played? Oh yes, you'll have so much fun!! (Please, God, be with her, ease her suffering, calm her fear.) What are the animals waiting for? Oh, Little One, they're waiting for the humans who shared their lives and loves. Their humans will cross over, too, some day and they'll call out to their special animals. You can be one of my special babies, okay? I promise I'll call. (I'm . . . so . . . sorry. I really, REALLY hate this.) I don't even know your name! Did you ever have a name? (It's just so unfair.) Is it okay if I call you my Peanut? I have other fur-babies across the Bridge, but I don't have another Peanut? You know my scent, my voice, and the place I hold for you in my heart. I can't change this horrible thing that's been done to you, but know that I love you and wait for me, okay?"

The rain has started again as we reach our destination, but it's my tears bathing your sweet face. Your tongue on my cheek says you understand. "I'll see you soon, my little Peanut."

Donna Underwood